Tales of the Woodland Realm
by Aranel Mereneth
Summary: A series of one-shots (drabbles?) pertaining to the lives of the elves of the Woodland Realm and the friendships they make. Featuring Thranduil, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, dwarves, hobbits, cats, horses, balrogs and sensible OC's (A kind of companion piece to my prior fics: Home, A Tale to Tell, Road Goes Ever On & On).
1. Of Balrogs and Elflings

I'm on fire with posting these LOTR/Hobbit stories lately! This story will consist of a multitude of one-shots (drabbles?) not in chronological order (although the first few chapters will be in order); focussing mostly on the lives of elves in Greenwood (later Mirkwood), as well as the friendships they make.

Featuring Thranduil, Legolas, Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn, Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, Haldir, hobbits, cats, horses, and a cast of OCs. (Some of my OCs also appear in some of my previous works).

Hope you enjoy :) and please do drop in a quick review at the end, I would love to know what you think!

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**Of Balrogs and Elflings**

"_Ada! Nana!"_

The elven king groaned and abruptly sat up in his bed, startled by the young ball of energy that had came running in the middle of the night into his chambers. The young elf had dived and buried himself beneath the warm covers of the huge bed, the tiny body almost lost in the vast amount of fabric. Thranduil sighed and rested a soothing hand upon the trembling elf, pulling back the covers to reveal a head of golden and wide, bright blue eyes that were brimming with tears. The clash of thunder and lighting sounded through the palace and the young prince cried out in fear, scrambling back under the sheets. Thranduil gently rolled the little body over to face him and smoothed back his hair, careful not to wake his slumbering wife beside him and his newborn son, who was sleeping in the adjacent room.

"Little Leaf," Thranduil began and he pulled the prince into his arms. "Hush now! You are my brave warrior, are you not?"

Legolas sniffed and rubbed his eyes, giving his father a slight nod.

"Then why, _penneth,_ does the storm frighten you so?"

"It's so loud, _Ada!_" the prince wailed.

"Hush, _ion nin!_ Your mother is still weary from bringing your brother into this world and we must be careful not to wake her, do you understand?"

Legolas clamped his hand over his mouth and nodding vigorously, snuggled into his father's lap as Thranduil proceeded to rock him, hoping the motion would quickly lull the young elf to sleep. He glanced briefly at his wife and his shoulders sagged as he saw her eyes open, her expression immediately filling with concern.

"What is it my golden one?" Legolas turned his head at the sound of his mother's voice and instantly crawled into her arms. Thranduil chuckled wearily and stood to check on his newborn son nearby.

The queen of the Woodland Realm smiled gently and kissed her eldest son's brow. Her eyes narrowed when Legolas told her of his fright from the sounds of the storm occurring that night and she squeezed her arms around his little form.

"You have never been afraid of the weather like this before, Legolas," Queen Merilwen said, cupping the elfling's cheeks and wiping away his tears.

Legolas sniffled and pointed towards the doorway. "Master Glor – Glorfy – Glorfin – Gilorfindel -" Thranduil had just returned to the bedchamber and sniggered at the mispronunciation of the great elf lord's name. "Glorfindel told me the thunder is really the footsteps of a Balrog who comes to punish elflings if they don't go to sleep when they are told to!"

Thranduil could not contain the snort of amusement at hearing the child's words and Merilwen fought a smile as she stroked her son's soft blonde hair. "The thunder is simply the clashing of the clouds in the sky when they are heavy with water. Then the water is released to us as rain and cleanses the earth. It is a blessing, dear one."

Legolas' countenance brightened, but then he stiffened and jumped to his feet on the bed, causing the mattress to bounce slightly. "What about the lightning, _Naneth_? Master Glorfin said that it is the sword of a Balrog which means that if elflings don't fall asleep it will come and eat them!"

Merilwen could not stop the soft laughter that escaped from her mouth and she shared a loving yet amused look with Thranduil. "I think you will have to have a word with Lord Glorfindel next time we go to _Imladris,_ and warn him of the consequences of scaring elflings," Merilwen said teasingly to her husband. The king rubbed his forehead and pulled the child into his grasp.

"I agree my dear," he replied as he bestowed a kiss on his son's cheek. "The Balrog slayer may be able to escape with telling such stories to other elflings, but not to young, mighty princes! Am I right, my brave warrior?"

Legolas peered up at his father and grinned. "So none of it is true?" he asked in a small voice, eyes round and hopeful. The queen rubbed his back and tucked the prince beneath the covers.

"Nay, it is all but the great lord's… interesting imagination," the queen laughed as she lay back down and wrapped her arms around Legolas. Thranduil smiled and sighed in contentment at the picture they made and tightened his hold on the young prince.

"Go to sleep now, _ion nin,_" Thranduil whispered, his eyes twinkling in mischief. "Or the Balrog might just come and gobble you up!"

"_Ada!_"

"Thranduil!"

The king grinned sheepishly and attempted to console the squirming elf in his arms. Neither the king nor the queen attained sleep until the sun had risen above the tall forest trees, and the joyful chirping of birds eventually calmed the elf prince into a peaceful slumber.

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_Translations:_

_Ada (Dad/Daddy)  
Nana (Mum/Mummy)  
__Penneth (child/young one)  
__Ion nin (my son)__  
__Naneth (mother)  
__Imladris (Rivendell)_


	2. Of Gifts and Overly-Excited Elflings

**Of Gifts and Overly-Excited Elflings**

Queen Merilwen sighed in exasperation at her sons, telling them for the umpteenth time to cease their running around the room in circles. The princes had taken out all their toys and scattered them all over the nursery. She shook her head and returned her focus to the tunic she was making for Lasneth; the toddler was growing much too quickly for her liking. She glanced up through the corner of her right eye every so often to ensure both her sons still had their feet on the ground.

"Legolas! Bookshelves are not for climbing. Lasneth! _Do not_ go after him!" Merilwen said sharply. Legolas gave his mother an apologetic look and clambered back down to the ground, his feet landing with a gentle thud on the soft blue rug. Lasneth squealed in glee and with outstretched arms, flung himself at his older brother.

"Las, catch!" Legolas barely had time to raise his arms before he collapsed to the floor with his younger brother lying on top of him, laughing hysterically and clapping his hands. Merilwen abandoned her needlework and scooped up the toddler into her arms.

"I think the two of you have caused enough mischief for today," Merilwen said wearily as she adjusted the over-excited child to rest on her hip. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, sending rays of light orange and pink to mix with the blue. "Come now my sons, your father will be expecting you cleaned up in time for dinner."

Legolas dropped his toy soldiers and took his mother's hand. "_Ada_ is back?" the elfling asked, his face filled with joy. Merilwen smiled and gently tugged her elder son out of the room.

"Yes he is on his way home again, my Leaf. Your father has not seen you for some time now, and you want to look your best for him, do you not?"

Legolas nodded eagerly and ran ahead of his mother, hurrying towards the chambers he shared with his younger brother. Merilwen had deemed the two boys to be too young to each have their separate chambers yet. Her eyes saddened as she thought of how fast they grew each day. Lasneth noticed the subtle change in his mother's demeanour and gently patted her cheek. The queen grinned at her youngest and entered her children's chambers, kindly asking a servant to prepare their baths. The sun had almost set. If they made haste, they would not be late for the evening meal.

Both princes had behaved extremely well and did not trouble the queen as she quickly dressed them. Both were greatly looking forward to seeing their father return home. Thranduil had travelled to Lothlorien to meet with his cousin, Lord Celeborn. News had reached Greenwood that the house of Elrond had a new addition to the family – a little girl by the name of Arwen, whose beauty was said to rival that of her ancestor Luthien. Elrond had taken his family to visit his in-laws in Lothlorien, and Celeborn had been eager to meet again with his Woodland cousin. Thranduil had hesitated at first; he did not wish to leave his wife and young children. Merilwen had eventually convinced him to take leave, insisting strongly that he needed the break and that she and the children would manage just fine. Assured that his family would be in safe hands, the Greenwood king had left with the promise to return as soon as he was able.

Satisfied that the two princes were presentable and with Legolas' hand in her left, and Lasneth's in her right, Merilwen lead them through the corridors of the palace down to the dining hall. The elves buzzed with excitement, smiles upon their faces. Thranduil was a stern but just king, and was greatly loved by his people.

The grand oak doors to the dining room opened to reveal the tall, proud figure of the king standing towards the front of the room, conversing quietly with the captain of the guard. Legolas beamed and Lasneth wriggled his hand from his mother's grasp, bolting forward with a cry.

"_Ada!"_ Thranduil's face lit up and he caught the toddler in his grasp, swinging him around and placing a kiss on his chubby cheek. Legolas wrapped his arms around the king's legs and Thranduil knelt, still carrying Lasneth, and pulled the elder prince into his arms, kissing his brow. Thranduil raised his eyes and shared a warm smile with his wife, only breaking their eye contact when Lasneth began to tug firmly on the collar of the king's tunic.

"Yes, _penneth?_"

"Did you bring me a present, _Ada?_" Lasneth asked fervently, eyes wide and hopeful. The king and the captain of the guard laughed at the child's innocence and the king nodded his head.

"Indeed I did not forget to bring you a gift, my dear prince," Thranduil grinned as he set the toddler on the ground. He noted the shy expression on the elder prince's face and squeezed Legolas' shoulder. "Nor did I forget one for you, my brave warrior." Legolas beamed, his blue eyes shining in delight. "Would you like to see them now, my sons?"

Both princes gave a shout of agreement and bounced on their feet, keen on opening their gifts. Merilwen came to stand with Legolas and rested a hand on his shoulder as the captain of guard handed two items wrapped securely in cloth over to the king. Lasneth tugged on the king's tunic and Thranduil carefully unwrapped the fabric to reveal a small, emerald green velvet cloak. The cloak had intricate detailing of leaves and vines wrapping around the hood and down the centre. Lasneth began to jump and cry out in joy as he thanked his father, briefly controlling himself as Merilwen knelt to drape the cloak across his shoulders. Lasneth grinned and took off running around the room, fanning out his cloak and making soft whooshing noises as he went.

Thranduil smiled kindly at Legolas and slowly unwrapped the second gift to reveal a meticulously crafted bow and quiver of arrows, perfect for a young prince to begin training with. The elder prince's jaw dropped in awe and he nervously ran his fingers along the smooth wood, tracing his index finger over the engravings on the bow. He peered up at the king and threw his small arms around his father's waist.

"_Hannon le, Ada._ I promise I will use it wisely."

Thranduil's chest tightened at hearing the pure gratitude and love in the softly spoken words and returned Legolas' embrace. "You will make a fine warrior, Little Leaf," he said proudly. "The finest archer Middle-earth will ever see."

Legolas gazed up at the king, eyes round. "Will you teach me, _Ada?_" To the elder prince, no elf could match the strength and wisdom of the King of Greenwood. Thranduil nodded without hesitation and gestured to the captain standing beside him. "Girithron will help begin your training as of tomorrow morning, does that please you, _ion nin?_"

Legolas nodded in agreement and Captain Girithron chuckled at the elfling's willingness. "If you do not mind, my lord," the captain began, turning to Thranduil. "I was planning to begin tutoring my niece as well. Perhaps they can share the beginner's classes together?"

"Of course, _mellon nin,_ Legolas would not mind the company, would you, my boy?"

Legolas, slightly perplexed at the notion of an _elleth_ sharing his classes, gave a single nod. The captain noticed the elder prince's confusion and laughed gently.

"Her mother does not approve of my niece wanting to learn the art of archery," Girithron said, his tone turning solemn. "However the days begin to grow darker, and I would not have any elves know nothing of how to defend themselves. Everyone should at least know the basics."

Thranduil's expression turned grave and he patted the captain's shoulder in agreement. Silence descended upon the elves for a moment until the queen surreptitiously cleared her throat. "Dinner is about to be brought out, my lords. Shall we take our seats?"

Thranduil took her hand and led his wife, his children and Captain Girithron to the grand dining table. Lasneth swung his legs back and forth under his chair, squirming at the uneasiness he felt at the height. His eyes could barely see above the table. How small he felt! Legolas laughed at the pout on his younger brother's face and proceeded to distract him with the bow in his hands. Thranduil and Merilwen looked upon their children with a mixture of affection and anxiousness, for the days of the watchful peace were ending, and the shadow had begun to stir once more.

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_Translations:_

_Hannon le (thank you)  
Ion nin (my son)  
Mellon nin (my friend)  
Elleth (she-elf)  
_


	3. Of Archery and Laughter

Thank you everyone for all the reviews! Keep them coming ;) I really appreciate the feedback.

In reply to some of the non-member reviews…

**Issy** and **1Olivia:** Thanks for the reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

**Fireworks:** By Legolas saying "Gildorfindel" he meant Glorfindel, just that he could not pronounce it correctly. You will notice that the king and queen refer to him as Glorfindel later in the chapter. But I have changed the Gildorfindel to Glorfindel for clarification, just in case. I appreciate your feedback!

**Kiera kiki:** Good to hear you like the story so far! Just to clarify, in Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does not give us much details about Legolas' life, other than the fact that he is the Prince of Mirkwood, one of the best archers of Middle-earth, and that his father is King Thranduil (who has a significant role in The Hobbit). We do not know anything about Legolas' mother, or if he had any siblings, cousins etc. So if you see any work on this site that gives Legolas a sibling/s and talks about his mother, it is purely a fan's interpretation, since we are told so little. I would also suggest you read the books, since they are very entertaining, and we would not have the amazing movies Peter Jackson has made if it were not for Tolkien's genius imagination. I personally read The Hobbit and LOTR at a very young age (Hobbit at 7/8, LOTR at age 10), but I had lots of friends who even in their late teens found it hard to get through LOTR (it is a big book!) Everyone is different. I would recommend you start off by reading The Hobbit, as it is a relatively short and heart-warming read, and then try to tackle LOTR. Patience is the key to reading and engrossing yourself in the written magic of Tolkien. Good luck :)

Now, on with the story…

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**Of Archery and Laughter**

"Well done, Prince Legolas! A splendid shot!"

The prince grinned and squared his shoulders at hearing Girithron's praise. The elder prince had been practicing archery for a few years now under the tutelage of the captain of the guard, who much to the gratitude of the royal family, spent most of his spare time training the young prince. Word had reached Thranduil that his son was a natural with the bow, and had picked up skills and tricks much quicker than the other elves his age. Thranduil and Girithron had then come to a mutual agreement that the young elf had sufficiently mastered the basics, and that it was time to teach him the finer points, including the skills that would be required for battle. Queen Merilwen had objected at first, not wanting to expose her son to the hardships that lay beyond the palace walls just yet. But Thranduil had gravely insisted that the sooner Legolas was prepared to face battle, the better. The times of peace were rapidly coming to an end, and the king feared that they would be called to battle in the upcoming years… if war did not come to them first. However, the king did not want to push his son too much, since he thought it would still be many generations of men's lives until that would come to pass.

Girithron's niece, Lalaith, had also begun training at the same time the prince had. The young elleth was a bright child with a joyful demeanour – living up to the meaning of the name bestowed upon her, _laughter._ Both her and the prince had mastered the basics of archery together and despite their shyness at first, the two had become fast friends. The king and queen thought it slightly odd that out of all the elflings in the kingdom, their son chose a female elf as his closest companion. Legolas, being a prince and a kind spirit, had befriended many other young elves; yet found that he could not be completely carefree and trusting to anyone other than his family, the captain and Lalaith. Every time Lalaith and her family joined the royals for the evening meal, Merilwen would give Thranduil a knowing smile, as if she knew exactly what the future would hold. The king would merely shake his head in amusement and allow the two young elves the innocence and beauty of childhood friendship before they too, were thrown into the complicated world of adults.

Girithron turned to his niece and nodded. "It is your turn now, my dear."

Lalaith smiled and stood in position, prepared to fire at the target placed a few feet away. The captain suppressed a laugh at seeing how endearing she looked as she concentrated, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth and her blue eyes squinting at the target. The young elleth pulled and released the arrow with a _twang!_ Legolas clapped in encouragement as the arrow landed with a gentle thud on the inner ring of the target. Lalaith huffed, frustrated and pouted at her friend.

"Why do you applaud, Leaf?" she sighed dejectedly, her chin bowing down. "Why can I not get the arrow to land in the centre like you do?"

Legolas threw an arm over her shoulder. "We are all different, Lalaith," he began. "I'm sure with extra practice you will as well!"

Lalaith's eyes brightened and she turned to face her uncle with a grin. "Really? Do you think so too, Uncle?"

Girithron chuckled at the child's fervour and ruffled her dark hair. "Yes dear one, I believe you will! The prince is correct, all you require is a little more practice and patience and you shall achieve your goal."

Lalaith beamed and turned to Legolas, smiling mischievously at him. "Last one back to the palace is a rotten egg!"

Legolas' jaw dropped and he quickly regained his composure before sprinting after her, waving his bow in the air. "You forget that I am two years older than you, and I can run faster!"

Lalaith laughed but did not cease her running. "We shall see, Legolas! We are almost there and I am still ahead of you!"

Girithron grinned as he watched the two elflings disappear behind the palace walls. Shaking his head, he plucked the arrows from the targets and slowly made his way inside, the sun shining overhead. The steadfast friendship between the two elves warmed his heart, and he prayed that time would be their friend and not strip away their innocence just yet. The trees whispered happily to each other, the warm breeze wafting through the palace grounds, the sound of young elven laughter mingling harmoniously with nature's gentle melody.

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I know this is quite short, but I have already written the next chapter. So if I kindly get reviews quickly enough... I shall post it up ASAP ;) mwahahhaha.


	4. Of Kings and Bizarre Pictures

From this chapter onwards, the story goes out of chronological order... Lasneth is not yet born in this one and Legolas is still a baby/toddler.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy :)

P.S. Next chapter is written and ready to go... the quicker the reviews come the quicker I'll post it up ;) hehehe.

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**Of Kings and Bizarre Pictures**

Thud.

Thranduil's ears perked up at the light sound of wood hitting the ground, however the king's mind was engrossed in the words scrawled over the parchment he held in his fingertips.

Thud. Thud.

The king saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye and was about to return to his reading when a loud crash resounded through the room. Thranduil's eyes snapped up in the direction of the sound and he groaned when he saw the open door leading to the balcony of his private study. With a start, he remembered just who else was supposed to be in the room with him.

"Legolas!" the king's voice was frantic. "Legolas, where did you go? Are you alright?"

Thranduil released a sigh of relief when he saw the young prince leaning against the balcony railing with various books, wooden soldiers and toy arrows scattered around him. The child gurgled at the sight of his father and clapped his hands in delight.

"Up!" the prince demanded, reaching his arms above towards Thranduil. "_Ada,_ up!"

Thranduil knelt and gently took the elfling into his embrace. He stood and looked over the balcony to see a small pile of books and arrows on the grassy ground several floors down. He noticed an elf rubbing his head, a look of pain crossing his face. Thranduil swallowed his laughter and attempted to pin a stern look on the child. "Legolas, it is not nice to throw things to the ground, especially at other people."

Legolas cocked his head to the side at his father's serious tone before bringing his tiny hands into another clap. "Las fire! Just like _Ada!_"

Thranduil could not maintain his strict façade at his son's endearing actions and proceeded to tickle the small bundle in his arms. Legolas emitted a few high-pitched squeals of laughter, his little body writhing as he tried to flee from the king's arms. "_Ada,_ stop! No more!"

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "No more, what?"

Legolas smiled innocently up at the king, his eyes large and round. "No more tickle, please?"

Thranduil grinned and ruffled the elfling's blonde hair. "Very well, Little Leaf." He retreated back into the study and sat down at his desk, placing the child in his lap. Thranduil had just picked up the paper he had hastily discarded moments before when he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. He peered down from above his nose and saw Legolas kicking his legs in the air. Thranduil sighed once more. _Ai, how does one so small have so much energy?_ The king smiled wryly as he thought. _I must remember to give Merilwen more credit for keeping this one tame enough to eat and sleep, let alone sit in one spot for more than a minute!_ "What is it, Legolas?"

"_Ada,_ I am bored."

Thranduil turned his gaze to the window and noted from the position of the sun that it was almost midday. His wife had left the palace for a few hours to visit a friend and had left the king on Legolas-duty. She would not return until the sun had set. He cast the paper aside on his desk and shuffled the elfling in his lap to face him. "What does your mother usually play when you are bored, my Leaf?"

Legolas tapped his chin with his index finger, pondering for a moment, before his blue eyes lit up. "_Naneth_ plays hide-and-seek with me!" he exclaimed. "And we also draw in different colours!"

Thranduil was not keen on having to chase after an already excited elfling pretending to find him. The second idea seemed the more appropriate and appealing. "I have plenty of paper right here, _penneth,_" he said gesturing towards the desk. "Would you like to draw?"

Legolas nodded so eagerly that Thranduil worried for a moment that the child's head might snap. He chuckled and pulled out a new quill and parchment, smoothing them out on the table. He straightened and adjusted the child in his lap to face the desk and watched, highly entertained as Legolas grabbed the quill and began to form nonsensical scribbles and pictures on the paper. He watched as his son drew the sun, the moon, the trees, the birds, the horses, his mother and father… Thranduil's eyes narrowed at a particular drawing. "Legolas, what is this?"

The prince pouted, puzzled at why his father had asked such a question. "It is Mith – Mithran – Mithrandir!"

Thranduil's eyes widened in shock and then his shoulders shook with mirth. Legolas had drawn quite an interesting interpretation of the friendly grey wizard. There were squiggly lines upon his face of what Thranduil assumed represented wrinkles, a long grey cloak, a head with no neck, hands that were larger than feet, and a pointy hat that was so tall it reached up into the clouds. In the wizard's ridiculously large and disproportional hand he held a staff that appeared to be releasing fireworks from the tip.

"Of course it is Mithrandir, how silly of me!" The response seemed to satisfy the young prince, and he continued to add to the drawing. The king made a mental note to show the grey wizard the bizarre picture.

Hours passed and the king of the Woodland Realm remained in his study drawing with his son, until the poor child had exhausted himself and fell asleep with his head resting casually on his father's shoulder. Thranduil propped his feet up on the footstool beneath the desk and ensuring his arms were wrapped securely around the child, allowed his eyes to glaze over in elven sleep. And that was exactly how the queen found them when she returned to the palace that evening, a smile upon both their faces as both the king and prince roamed their waking dreams.


	5. Of Losses and Gains

Just a reminder that again that only the first few chapters were in chronological order, the rest of the chapters are not.

Also, this chapter is significantly darker (I am not accustomed to writing about such sadness, so I hope it did not turn out too badly). Bonus points to anyone who notices the small references to quotes by Samwise and Aragorn from the books/films.

Kindly remember to drop in a quick review (the last chapter had 37 views and only 3 reviews?) The feedback truly makes my day and any constructive criticism is welcome :)  
And to those of you who have reviewed the story so far, thank you soooo much! I really appreciate hearing your thoughts and critique.

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**Of Losses and Gains**

The trees were silent.

Thranduil passed a hand over his eyes, his fingertips coming to rest on his mouth as he suppressed a shaky breath. His eyes scanned the shadow that had settled over the treetops. Greenwood the Great, it has once been known as, its beauty almost unrivalled. Then darkness crept back into the world and it became simply Greenwood, but still the forest was abundant in splendour and life. Now, however, humans and elves alike feared the forest. Mirkwood, they began to call it. The king's hands balled into fists as he attempted to control his disdain at the morbid name. Every day the king and his army would fight the ever-growing darkness, and each day they were driven further back a step. It was now known that the Necromancer had taken possession of Dol Guldur, and that orcs and spiders had infested the Woodland elves' beloved forest.

Thranduil shut his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as he heard a song of mourning pierce the silence. The hauntingly beautiful elven voice was joined by another, forming a devastatingly sombre melody. The king tried to block out the words from reaching his ears, but alas, they penetrated his mind and cut through his heart.

_The Queen is dead._

The king could not restrain the sob that escaped him as he was wrenched back to the cruelness of reality. For the first time since Oropher's death, Thranduil felt utterly lost and helpless. He wished for nothing more than to follow his wife to the Halls of Mandos. A soft voice calling his name resonated from the door of his chambers and he was reminded of who exactly tied him to Middle-earth. Nay, he could not leave his children, not when they needed him most.

Thranduil wiped the tears from his face and trudged towards the door, mildly startled to find it already open. Legolas stood, shoulders slumped as he regarded his father with a mixture of pity and empathy. The elven prince reached out and placed a hand on the king's shoulder. "_Adar._" The elder prince's voice shook with emotion as he too struggled to compose himself. "_Adar,_" he tried again, his tone miserable. "It has been two days and you have not yet eaten."

Thranduil glared and turned sharply on his heel, fixing his gaze on the portrait of his wife hanging above the fireplace. His eyes trailed over her smile, her blonde hair, green eyes, and the flow of her soft purple gown… How could his son possibly suggest he satisfy his hunger after so much bad had happened?

"I do not wish to eat."

Legolas sighed and took a step forward. "_Adar,_ please."

It was not a question. Thranduil turned and saw the tears upon the prince's cheeks. Legolas stifled a cry as he gently placed his arms around his father's shoulders. Thranduil roughly returned the embrace, struggling to maintain his composure. _I must be strong,_ the king reminded himself. He would not allow himself to collapse in front of his children. Despite the fact that both his sons had grown, their hearts were young and their minds still innocent. _Though not anymore,_ the king thought bitterly. They had experienced tragedy too quickly and too close to the soul.

Legolas pulled back slightly as his ears picked up the barely audible footsteps at the door. His younger brother Lasneth, accompanied by their closest friend Lalaith, tentatively entered the room and shut the door silently behind them. Legolas did not object to the elleth's presence in the family's quarters; since childhood, she had become a close part of their lives. He was harshly reminded of the fact that her presence would now be required in a different form, especially for Lasneth, since the younger prince had not yet reached adulthood as Legolas had. Lasneth did not try to hide his grief and wept in despair as his right hand clutched tightly at Lalaith's forearm, as if he were gripping on to her for dear life. Legolas' gaze softened at the pitiful sight his younger brother made, and he extended an arm out to him.

Lasneth did not hesitate and buried his face into the crook of Legolas' neck, crying openly. Lalaith rubbed his back soothingly, which much to her dismay, only caused the younger prince to release a howl of anguish as he remembered the many times his mother had also rubbed his back in a similar manner, whether it was to comfort him from his fear of the imaginary Balrog in his closet, or when he was scolded by Legolas in a bout of sibling rivalry.

Lalaith inhaled deeply and forced a small smile to her lips as she addressed the king, her voice a whisper. "You will see her again one day, my lord." She swallowed the lump in her throat before she continued, her voice stronger this time as she fixed her eyes upon the three elves before her. "I know it does not seem like it now, but there is always hope. And when the sun shines, it will shine out even clearer. I will not say do not mourn for now, but the queen was a free spirit, and she would not want you all to cage yourselves in your grief."

Lalaith tried to quell the panic that rose from the pit of her stomach and clogged up her mind. Her parents had already been victims to the shadow, choosing to sail across the sea merely a few years after their daughter had reached maturity, leaving her in the care of the House of Thranduil. Fading was a distinct and dangerous possibility for elves who had seen much trauma. Legolas noticed the fear in her eyes and raised a hand to stroke her chin, offering her half-hearted smile. _Thank you. _

Thranduil finally raised his gaze to the young elleth and pulled her into a fatherly embrace. Together, the four of them wept for the passing of their beloved queen, and with the bittersweet knowledge that although the king and princes had lost a member of their family, they had gained another.


	6. Of Crooked Smiles and Wildflowers

Just a quick reminder again :P this story is not in strict/exact chronological order (which is why I have not indicated a particular timeline of events or anything in the chapters).

**Nightrunner144:** Thank you for your kind words! I think all writers have some morbid fascination with making characters suffer lol.

**Kiera:** Yes, bonus points to you for getting both those references! But you did miss the one from Sam that Thranduil thinks about how "so much bad has happened." :P I like all the members of the Fellowship, but I do agree that Frodo can sometimes be a bit meh. For me, Samwise is the biggest hero of them all (followed by Aragorn and Gandalf). Of course, Merry and Pippin are adorable/hilarious! They remind me a lot of Fred and George Weasley from HP.

Anyway, I would love to know what you think of the chapter. Enjoy!

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**Of Crooked Smiles and Wildflowers**

"Move your feet, Lasneth," Thranduil told his son as the sound of metal colliding filled their ears. Lasneth panted and attempted to hastily disarm his father, but the king had many years of expertise up his sleeve and with an elegant flick of his wrist, he had flung the sword from his younger son's grasp. Lasneth leaned over to rest his hands on his knees as he attempted to regulate his breathing; blonde hair matted with perspiration and his chest heaving. He grinned up at his father and inclined his head.

Thranduil's lips turned upwards into a crooked smile as he sheathed his sword and extended a hand to help the young prince to his feet. "You improve each day, _ion nin,_" he praised as he patted his son's back. Lasneth's grin morphed into a scowl when he spotted his older brother smirking up at him, eyes dancing with mischief.

"He isn't nearly as good as I was at that age, _Adar,_" Legolas teased. Thranduil rolled his eyes and lightly smacked the back of the elder prince's head. Legolas winced and the grin returned to Lasneth's face once more.

"Your talent lies with the bow, Legolas, whereas Lasneth's lies with the blade." Thranduil shook his head and raised his arm to mop the sweat from his brow using the sleeve of his tunic.

"I can handle _two_ blades exceptionally well at the same time. Lasneth has yet to determine how to wield one without poking his own eye out," Legolas replied, tongue-in-cheek. Lasneth raised his arm and released a battle cry as he tackled his older brother to the ground. Thranduil chuckled at their antics, the light in his eyes dwindling as his thoughts turned to his wife. Not a day went by where the House of Thranduil did not sorely miss Queen Merilwen. The king started as a light touch on his shoulder shook him from his reverie.

Lalaith held a tray of refreshments in her hands as she smiled warmly up at the king. Thranduil's demeanour brightened and he took a goblet in his hands, nodding his head in gratitude. Lalaith strode over to the two princes sprawled over the grass and cleared her throat. "My lords," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you care for a drink?"

Lasneth winked at his brother and sprang to his feet. "Why thank you, my fair maiden," he smiled crookedly at her and Lalaith was reminded of the uncanny resemblance both princes had to their father. "Might I be bold enough to say that you look absolutely enchanting this afternoon?"

Lalaith laughed and gave him a gentle shove. "Oh, so I only look pretty at this moment? What about every other day?"

Lasneth chuckled, tipped his head back and emptied his goblet in one gulp. Legolas stood and snaked an arm around Lalaith's waist, beaming down at her. "You always look stunning, my lady," he said tenderly as he pulled her closer to him. "Do not heed what my foolish brother says!"

Lasneth shared an amused look with his father. Legolas and Lalaith had only courted each other for a month before announcing their desire to be wed. The news did not come as a surprise to anyone and Thranduil was most pleased that he would finally be able to officially have such a fine young maiden as his daughter. Lasneth coughed discreetly and Legolas reluctantly tore his gaze away from his betrothed.

"Come, my children," Thranduil beckoned as he turned his eyes to the treetops, pausing for a moment to soak in what little rays of sunshine streamed through the dark green roof of leaves. He straightened and gestured towards the direction of the palace. "We must prepare ourselves for luncheon. The guard shall be returning today and I wish to invite them to dine with us."

The king's heart filled with joy at seeing Lalaith's face burst into a smile. "Uncle Girithron is returning?" she asked excitedly. Thranduil smiled in confirmation and the elleth released a laugh of delight, flinging her arms around Legolas' neck. Legolas chuckled at her enthusiasm and buried his nose into her dark locks, the tips of his ears turning pink with embarrassment as Lasneth sniggered at them.

With Lasneth's hand in Lalaith's left and Legolas' in her right, the three young elves followed Thranduil back to the palace. The light spring breeze spread the scent of wildflowers through the air and the leaves upon the tall forest trees murmured in happiness at seeing the royal elves finally at peace, even if it was only for a little while. Thranduil closed his eyes and smiled softly as he felt the wind caress his cheek and he knew that at that moment, Merilwen's spirit was watching over them.


	7. Of Moonshine and Unpleasant Smells

I have had an incredibly busy week so far, and an even busier one to come. Sooo sorry for the delay in updating! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Also, I read somewhere that Tolkien did not like cats… but since Hobbits and Men have pet dogs, I always imagined that the Elves would be cat people since they are so cat-like themselves. I also love cats, hence there will be cats in this story :P

**EGilly:** Thank you for your kind words!

**Kiera:** Thanks for the review! I'm glad my story makes your day just a little bit happier lol. Do you have an account on this site? If not, I suggest you make one! That way you can add all your stories/authors to alerts and favourites, and when you review I know who to give a direct message to :) If you do have an account on this site, please do tell me your username so I can PM you.

**Anne Withane: **I hope you approve of my name for the kitty cat ;)

Kindly remember to drop in a quick review! Also, I know this chapter is a bit short, so the next chapter should be up soon... Please do keep an eye out :)

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**Of Moonshine and Unpleasant Smells**

The Prince of Mirkwood slumped on to his bed and wrinkled his nose as his senses came in contact with the odour emanating from his boots. The prince's patrol had finally returned after two weeks of hunting the spiders that infested their forest from the south, and along the way they had barely had time to bathe and change. Exhaling loudly, Legolas reached down and began to untie the laces on his boots while attempting to keep his nose as far away from his feet as possible. He had just moved on to the second boot when he heard the door to his chambers creak open and then gently close. The scent of wildflowers filled his nostrils and he raised his head and smiled.

Lalaith strode gracefully into their chambers with a small bundle of white fur trailing at her feet. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the prince sitting on the bed. His left boot was discarded on the floor and his right was lifted into the air as his fingers tried to pull it off his foot. Her eyes lit up and she smiled widely. "Legolas! I did not know you were returning this morn!"

Legolas finally tugged the boot off his right foot and grinned at his wife. "I wished to surprise you," he replied, his gaze turning to the animal at the elleth's feet. The small creature tilted its head to the side, its blue eyes wide and pink nose twitching. He whistled quietly to the animal but it merely glanced up at the princess, releasing a soft meow.

Lalaith laughed and bent down to cradle the cat in her arms, stroking its soft, fluffy fur with a fond smile on her lips. Legolas recalled the day he had first encountered the animal – his patrol had been scouting for orcs and were on their way back to the city when they had found the kitten in the woods, its family nowhere to be found. After a couple of days of unsuccessfully trying to locate the kitten's home and not wanting the creature to perish in the wild, the prince had taken it back to the palace and gifted it to his wife. To say Lalaith was pleased would have been an understatement and she took great pride in the fact that she helped raise the creature into the beautiful cat it was today, much to King Thranduil's amusement.

The cat elegantly leapt down from the princess's arms and wagged its tail slightly as it began to circle the prince's legs. With a sniff and a louder meow, the cat bounded up onto the silky sheets of the bed and stretched out its paws, eyes closing in contentment. Legolas chuckled and reached over to scratch the cat behind the ears, causing it to release a purr of approval.

"You spoil her too much," Legolas said as he proceeded to run his hands over the soft white hair on the creature's back. Lalaith suppressed a giggle as she came to sit beside him on the bed.

"Isil is a perfectly well-behaved cat," Lalaith defended. "Even Lasneth says she brings much light to our family. And judging by your actions right now, I can safely attest that you would agree with him."

Legolas lifted his blue eyes to his wife and took her hands in his, twining their fingers together. "I suppose we all do spoil her a lot," he admitted. Isil raised her head slightly and narrowed her eyes when she realised neither elf was petting her. Legolas noticed the cat's displeasure and began to rub his hand over its belly, shaking his head in amusement. "However," he added, beaming at his wife. "She does not bring nearly as enough light as you do, _meleth._" Lalaith returned the smile and leaned over to give him a hug. She paused before laughing quietly and springing to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked, his brow creasing into a frown. Lalaith flicked her long, dark hair back over her shoulders as she began to rummage through the cupboard, the sunlight reflecting off the elegant beading on the sleeves and bodice of her pale pink dress. She draped a large towel over her arm and turned to the doorway leading from their bedroom.

"To prepare a bath for you," she answered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "As happy as I am to see you again, my prince, you reek of all types of unpleasant smells." She giggled as she added: "I am surprised Isil has been able to tolerate being near you for so long!"

Legolas mock-scowled and turned to the cat beside him. "Do I really smell that bad?" Isil licked her nose and scooted back slightly, meowing in confirmation. Legolas chuckled and with a final pat on the creature's back, he rose to his feet and followed the princess out of the room.

Isil yawned and arched her claws as she snuggled back into the plump silk pillows scattered over the bed. _Elves,_ she thought. _Such interesting creatures they are!_


	8. Of Unexpected Wake-Up Calls

**LalaithElerinna** & **AnneWithane:** Yes as perfect as elves appear to be, they can't be _that_ perfect, can they? Pretty sure they would still need to bathe once in a while or they'd smell like Aragorn too :P

**Keira:** No of course I haven't moved on to another story! Hehe I've just been really, really, busy! :( Great, how far into LOTR are you? Have you read The Hobbit before? If not, I suggest you read that first (since it is the prequel). Oh and I highly recommend you do make an account :) I had one for ages but I never posted/wrote anything – just added millions of stories/authors to my favourites list and reviewed them! So even if you're not comfortable with posting up stories yet/do not have the time to write your own stories, you can at least add all the ones you like to read to your favourites list, that way you have everything in one place, which is quite helpful. And don't be too hesitant to publish your works! Yes there are some trolls on this site, but there are many helpful people as well who would give you honest feedback on your stories and I'm pretty sure there will be plenty who would like to read them as well :)

Sorry for the delay everyone! I have had quite a busy week. Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

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**Of Unexpected Wake-Up Calls**

_Pat, pat, pat._

The Elvenking stirred and blinked, attempting to clear the bleariness of sleep from his eyes. He squinted and quickly shut his eyelids again when the sharp morning rays of sun pierced his sight. Thranduil shifted his weight and buried the side of his face into one of the many soft feather pillows scattered over his bed. He started when he felt a slight wet object on his nose and raised his right hand to bat it away. A violent hiss made his eyes snap open instantly and the king jerked upright into a sitting position, glaring at the cat pawing at his face. The creature's gaze softened as it stared up at him with wide eyes, extending its small pink tongue to lick at the tip of the king's nose.

_Confounded cat!_ Thranduil thought as he raised a hand to massage his temples. He glanced briefly around the chamber to ensure a servant, or more importantly, his elder son, had not entered the room in time to see the great Elvenking react to such an interesting wake-up call. Still slightly embarrassed at his predicament, Thranduil carefully lifted the ball of white fur off from his chest and deposited the cat on the silken bed sheets. Isil stretched and released a series of high-pitched meows that were strangely akin to the sound of laughter. Thranduil shook his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his limbs. _Even the creature mocks me!_

It did not take long for the king to prepare himself for the day. Dressed in regal moss green robes, oaken staff in hand and a mithril crown of autumn leaves resting upon his fair hair, he strode purposefully down the corridors leading to his family's private dining hall. Isil followed closely, causing the king to almost trip over his own feet when the cat decided to unexpectedly circle his legs, curling her tail around his left ankle. Thranduil huffed audibly and nodded to the guard posted at the door to the dining room. The guard inclined his head in response and turned the intricately carved door handle.

The door pushed open to reveal both princes and the princess already seated at the dining table, patiently awaiting his arrival. Thranduil arched an eyebrow, surprised at the fact that it was one of those rare days all his children had awoken and readied themselves before he had. Lalaith smiled brightly in greeting and a sigh of relief left her lips when she saw Isil standing proudly beside the king. The princess sprang to her feet and knelt, opening her arms as the royal cat bounced into her grasp. Lalaith cooed softly and stroked the animal's fluffy fur, earning a highly amused look from the king.

Legolas stood when he saw his father enter the room and smiled warmly. "Good morning, _Adar,"_ he said. Thranduil returned the greeting, his voice strong and clear as he took his seat at the head of the table, lightly cuffing his younger son, Lasneth, upside the head.

"_Adar!_" the younger prince complained as he smoothed out the back of his blonde hair. "What was that for?"

Although Thranduil's expression was stern, his eyes twinkled with mirth. The king sighed dramatically and placed a hand on his brow as he turned to Legolas and said: "first he does not even stand to acknowledge my presence, and now he questions me!" He shook his head in mock despair. "Alas, the day has come where my son has lost all respect for his king!"

Lasneth rolled his eyes at his father's antics and frowned at his laughing older brother. The few servants present shared looks of amusement and muffled their laughter. Despite the fact that King Thranduil portrayed himself as a formidable and stern ruler (which he was), word had spread over the centuries of the king's amiable sense of humour, a quality that the elves of Mirkwood had become quite fond of.

Lalaith set Isil on the ground once more and rinsed her hands in a bowl the servants had brought in. She kissed Thranduil's cheek before she sat down beside Legolas at Thranduil's right, taking her husband's hand in hers.

Thranduil smiled in appreciation as the servants brought in their breakfast, the delicious scent wafting through the room. He spied Isil attempting to jump up to reach a platter a young maid had balanced precariously on her forearm and scowled.

"Lalaith," he began, his tone stern. "That creature is out of control."

Lalaith paled and turned to her pet, sharply ordering her to behave. Isil whimpered quietly in response and curled up at the princess' feet, licking her paws. Lalaith fixed her anxious eyes on the king. "I am sorry _Adar. _I know it is not right for Isil to be present in the same room as us when we dine but I was incredibly worried about her. I looked all evening and could not find her and -"

"That is not what I meant, my dear," Thranduil said gently. His lips twitched into a smile when he noticed the elleth's shoulders visibly relax. "I was referring to the rather unexpected visitor I had this morning."

The king's eyes narrowed when Legolas sniggered beside him. "Must have given you quite the fright to find those green, slanted eyes peering down right at you and a little tongue swiping up into your nose -"

"Enough, Legolas!" Thranduil snapped. To his horror, he felt heat rising to his face and knew that the tips of his ears had turned pink. Both princes laughed openly at their father while Lalaith buried her face into the crook of Legolas' shoulder, her slender frame shaking slightly as she attempted to control her mirth. Thranduil grumbled and poured himself a glass of Dorwinion.

Legolas placed a hand around the glass just before Thranduil could raise it to his lips. The elder prince smirked. "Is it not a little early for that, _Ada?_" he said with an edge of concern.

Thranduil shook off his son's grip on the glass and drained the contents in one gulp. "Nay it is not," he replied as he reached for the jug before him. Not wishing to reveal his burdens to his children just yet, he forced a mischievous grin to his face. "When you have elflings who are as troublesome as you, _ion nin,_ you will wonder how you prevent yourself from emptying an entire barrel of Dorwinion in a day!"

Thranduil could not help the delight that washed over him when Legolas and Lalaith's faces turned red at the insinuation. The king laughed heartily when Legolas muttered to himself and shoved in a mouthful of food, staring intently at the napkin beside his plate. Lalaith twirled her fork around the vegetables on her plate with her right hand and picked at the embroidery on her dress with her left, her cheeks stained a light, rosy hue.

Lasneth sobered when he noticed the distant look form in his father's eyes. There were only three reasons that caused the mist to veil the king's blue orbs – when he was remembering his wife Merilwen, or his father Oropher, or if he was in possession of knowledge that weighed down on his shoulders. The younger prince looked at his father expectantly and cleared his throat, pulling Thranduil from his reverie. The king shook his head once and Lasneth, understanding that his father did not wish to speak of the subject just yet, lowered his gaze to his food.

Restless thoughts began to swirl about in Lasneth's mind and his eyes turned dark as a sense of foreboding engulfed his senses. The younger prince turned his stare to the fireplace, its dying embers withering away, leaving behind a nought but pile of grey, broken ash.


	9. Of Darkness and Despair

**Kiera:** Sorry I spelled your name wrong in the last chapter! I usually get it right lol and don't worry lots of people spell my name wrong too when it's so easy, so I know how you feel. To be honest I'm not really into all that fantasy stuff – the only fantasy I like are Harry Potter and LOTR. I do like historical books/movies a lot though – I'm a huge fan of the classics! I also love dystopian fiction (have you read any novels by George Orwell, or Brave New World? I highly recommend them!) Anyway, if you've made an account on this site, please do review with it so I can PM you :)

To everyone else, I'm sorry this chapter took a while. Uni is starting up again soon so I'm afraid updates will become much less frequent. But until then, I'll try to post as many chapters as I can! Hope you like the chapter!

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**Of Darkness and Despair**

The Elvenking sat at his desk, shoulders hunched over and a hand resting against his brow. His lips were pursed in concentration as he scribbled away on a piece of parchment. The men of Lake Town were in need of supplies and the king, who was usually more than happy to help, hesitantly agreed to their request. Shadow had crept its way back into the world and the Woodland elves had already suffered significant losses; their own supplies were beginning to fall short. Thranduil exhaled, mentally exhausted, and peered out the window of his private study. It was supposed to be midday, yet the sky was still dark. The sun remained hidden behind the grey clouds and the leaves on the forest trees, which had once been a lush, bright green, had now turned dull. Thranduil felt his heart sink into his stomach as he thought of the evil that had wormed its way into the elven kingdom – that _he _had allowed infest their beloved forest. The mist that had glazed over his eyes rapidly cleared when his sharp ears picked up the sound of a light knock on his door. His eyebrow shot up in surprise when his visitor did not even wait for a response before stepping silently into the room, closing the door with a soft click behind them.

Thranduil lowered his hand from his brow and managed to smile grimly at the elleth that stood before him. He waved his hand and motioned for her to sit in the armchair by the fireplace. The elleth gave a single nod and the king strode over and seated himself in the armchair opposite her. He noticed the letter clutched tightly between her fingers and with both his hands he gently pried them apart. His gaze softened and his voice was gentle. "What is it, my child?"

Lalaith gave him a shaky smile and slowly unwrapped the parchment. She smoothed out the wrinkles that had formed from her grip. "It is nothing of great importance, Ada," she replied quietly. "Just a letter from Arwen." Thranduil shifted towards her and gave her hand a squeeze, seeing in her eyes the sadness that had engulfed her soul as soon as they had been informed Legolas had joined a quest to Mordor. The once radiant princess had been a ball of energy and laughter, befitting of her name. However as the shadow strengthened its clutches, her light had dimmed. Ever since the crown prince had left to travel to Rivendell, her cheeks had become pale and faint circles had also begun to form under her eyes. At first, Thranduil had feared she was on the path to fading, and he realised with much bitterness that it was a distinct possibility he could lose both his son and daughter-in-law in this war unless by some miracle, Legolas managed to survive the treacherous journey. Yet there was still a shred of hope in his heart. It hung by a thread, but it was there nonetheless.

Thranduil and Lalaith sat in companionable silence, listening to the crackling of wood in the fireplace. After some time, the princess took a breath and her countenance brightened slightly. She quirked a smile at the king and cleared her throat as she began to read the letter in her hands.

"To my dreadfully hideous lord, King Thranduil…" Thranduil, who had been sipping on his drink, coughed and abruptly snapped his bewildered gaze to meet Lalaith's. His shoulders sagged in relief and he rolled his eyes when he saw that the familiar twinkle had appeared once again in her blue orbs. Lalaith stifled a grin and continued to read the remainder of the letter. When she had finished, Thranduil leaned back in his armchair and mentally said a prayer of gratitude that no troubled tidings had come from Rivendell. He noticed Lalaith had returned once more to her despondent disposition and kindly encouraged her to speak her mind.

Lalaith gave him a half-smile of gratitude and sighed, her eyes misting over. "It is too quiet here, Ada," she said, her voice grim. "Lasneth is still out on patrol, the creatures in the forest become more fearsome and dangerous each passing day – and Legolas is out in the wilderness, facing who knows what darkness inflicted by Sauron. You and I know very well that both your sons are too honourable for their own good, willing to give up their immortal lives to fight for a better future for the mortals of this world. You have told me yourself that the time of the elves is ending. How do we know it has not already ended? I know it is selfish to say Ada, but I wish… I wish we had sailed earlier." She turned her haunted eyes upon the king, her voice trembling. "It could have saved them from being scarred by this shadow, we could have saved them the pain. Their hearts are too kind Ada, and I fear how they will deal with the circumstances this war will bring… and has already brought to them… and to all the elves who remain on these shores..."

Thranduil reached over to wipe away the tears staining the elleth's face. The king smiled sombrely. "Forgive me, my dear, for it is by my doing that the darkness has tainted our home, our friends, our family, your parents-"

Lalaith sniffed and shook her head profusely in disagreement. "Nay Adar, do not for one moment think this is your fault. You have done everything you could have to keep the darkness at bay. It was just too strong-"

"And I should have been stronger!" Thranduil retorted, his blue eyes flashing.

Lalaith did not flinch at his sharp tone. Instead she rose and curled up at the king's feet, much like Legolas had told her he had done when he was younger and in need of his father's consolation. She placed her right hand on Thranduil's and unclenched his fist, resting her head upon his knee, her voice muffled by the deep velvet of the robes draped over the king's body. "Forgive me my lord, I should not have despaired. I just…"

Thranduil sighed and tenderly rested a hand on top of her dark hair. "I know my dear, I know."

The two elves remained in their positions, as still as stone, until the sun had gone down and the sky was painted a deep blue. The moonlight was dim and the stars were veiled as the king prayed, eyelids closed to hide the wetness that had pooled behind them. _I have already buried my father in this war. Please, do not make me bury my sons._

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Wow that was much more depressing than I intended. Also, about the last line, I remember seeing a drawing on Deviantart of Thranduil holding Legolas to himself with these words written in the corner. It was a very disturbing, sad and emotional image. I no longer have the link to it, but I'm sure if you search it on that site or even on Google it should come up. Kindly remember to leave me a quick review, it truly makes my day :)


	10. Of Healing and Hope

Thank you everyone for your reviews and ideas! Really appreciate it! Thanks also to everyone who has placed this on their favourites/alerts list. I'd love it if you could please drop in a quick review and let me know what you think :) Sorry this is a bit short, but hopefully I can update with the next one soon. Enjoy!

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**Of Healing and Hope**

Lalaith wrung out the wet towel in her hands and tenderly placed the cool material over Lasneth's forehead. The ellon's breaths were shallow, his face as pale as the moon and beads of perspiration slid down the side of his cheeks and matted his brow. The young prince took a shuddering gasp and Lalaith, brow furrowed in concern, gently patted the damp towel down in an attempt to control the fever. Her blue eyes raked over the various cuts and bruises that marred the elf's porcelain skin, coming to rest on the particularly ghastly wounds on his stomach and shoulder. She sighed tiredly and took the prince's hand in hers. She saw movement from the corner of her left eye and looked up, mildly startled. She had almost forgotten the king's presence in the private healing quarters. King Thranduil blinked away the haziness of sleep from his eyes and scanned the room quickly before settling his gaze on his younger son. He hunched over helplessly in his chair when he noticed that the young elf had not shown any sign of improvement. He met Lalaith's gaze and exhaled in exhaustion and anguish.

A brutal battle had been fought in the forest of Mirkwood – a last attempt to defeat the goodness of the elves. But the Wood-elves had been even fiercer in their retaliation and had driven out the darkness from their home, once and for all. However, with triumph came great loss, for many elves had lost their immortal lives, and even more were still battling to continue theirs. Lasneth had bravely aided his father and fellow soldiers in driving back the shadow, yet in the process had been struck by an arrow and spear laced with poison. Lalaith, who had also practised as a healer for centuries, instantly took the responsibility of nursing the young prince back to health. Currently, the princess sat silently by her brother-in-law's side, having done all she could to extract the poison from his body and dress his wounds to prevent any infection from spreading. All they could now do was wait.

Lalaith turned her head sharply when she heard the king stifle a cry. Her chest tightened and her being filled with sadness at seeing the proud Elvenking, who was almost always composed, strong and regal – attempt to hold back the choking sobs as he sat, shoulders sagged and shaking with despair. Quietly, she rose from her seat and rushed over to the king's side. She knelt and lowered his hand from his tear-stained face and allowed him to roughly pull her into an embrace, resting her head on his shoulder as she peered out the window, watching the stars flicker in the deep blue evening sky, the light of Earendil shining down on them. Her thoughts turned to Legolas and she knew from their bond that he had survived the war, although she had yet to discover whether or not he was still in one piece, or how badly he had been scarred by what he had experienced. She glanced over to Lasneth and noticed that his breaths were not coming as short as before. The glimmer of hope that had rested in her heart rose and enveloped her mind, her jaw set in determination. After all they had been through, they could not lose hope yet – they would not.


	11. Of Soup and Lessons

I am SOOOOO sorry for such a late update! I was extremely busy with assessments, but things have calmed down a bit now and I have a break next week, which means more updates for you all! :)

Thank you everyone for your patience and all your messages/reviews, and also to all of you who have put this story on your alerts/favourites lists. I really do appreciate it!

Although I have mentioned in earlier chapters and in the story summary that this is not strictly in chronological order, you probably would have realised that the past few chapters have sort of been in order… Yeah if something jumps to an entirely different time frame I'll let you guys know anyway :P

Sorry this is a bit short… however the next chapter should be up soon! Nonetheless, I hope you like it!

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**Of Soup and Lessons**

Lalaith narrowed her eyes as Lasneth dodged the bowl in her hand for the second time that day, pursing his lips tightly together and shaking his head. The younger prince was on the mend and had been relocated back to his chambers. He turned his gaze to the view of the treetops from his bedroom window and let his mind wander over how the patrols were managing without him. The slight sloshing sound of soup shook him from his reverie and he groaned as a spoon was shoved into his mouth. The prince crinkled his features into one of disgust as he reluctantly swallowed, eyes wide as he noticed the stony expression on the princess' face. Lasneth heard the door creak open and turned to face the only one whom he thought could spare him from consuming the horrible meal.

"Adar! _Please,_ tell her not to make me eat this! I fear it may make me even more ill than I already am," Lasneth pleaded, the desperation evident on his face.

Thranduil chuckled, but at seeing Lalaith's stern gaze, he coughed and attempted to morph his features into something more serious.

"Eat it, Lasneth," the Elvenking commanded gently. Lalaith offered the king a small smile before she raised the spoon towards Lasneth. The prince clasped a hand over his mouth and shook his head in defiance once more, turning his gaze to his father.

"Adar!" the prince whined childishly. Lalaith smiled at him a little too widely as she gracefully stood from the prince's bedside.

"Fine then, I will not force you, my lord," the elleth said, her voice sickly sweet. Lasneth froze, his faced paled and before he could utter a word in protest, he felt the warmth of the bowl's contents drench his hair and trail down into his tunic. Lalaith smirked and with a slight curtsey to the king, she slammed the chamber doors behind her.

Thranduil stared after her, his jaw slack. Once he finally recovered from his feelings of shock and mild fear, his shoulders began to shake with mirth at the pitiful picture Lasneth made. The vegetables in the soup had clumped on top of his hair and the liquid had begun to make the clothes stick to his skin.

Lasneth muttered to himself as he glared at his father, hair sopping wet and clinging to his face. "I cannot _wait_ to go back on patrol."

Thranduil wiped a tear from his eye and inhaled, cheeks still reddened with amusement. "If you had obeyed your sister, you would have recovered much faster, _ion nin,_" he chuckled.

From the corridor outside Lasneth's chambers, Lalaith listened. A grin spread across her face at hearing the king's support. With a flick of her dark hair, she turned on her heel and strode down the hallway, intent on making another bowl of soup. Only this time, she knew the prince would ingest it without objection. She smiled mischievously and suppressed a giggle. Yes, the young prince had definitely learned his lesson.


	12. Of Dreams and Elf-friends

I know, such a quick update, right? Well, I am making the most of my break. From this chapter onwards I will begin to write based on suggestions some of my lovely reviewers have requested to read about. This chapter is a bit longer as well ;) So without further ado… here we go!

(Oh and this is set slightly before the last few chapters, so it is not in complete order after all lol).

* * *

**Of Dreams and Elf-friends**

"Legolas? Legolas!"

The elf prince snapped out of his reverie and vaulted into a seating position, gripping his blades tightly in his hand. His eyes darted about looking for any sign of danger, but his ears were met with the soothing sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and droplets of water streaming down the waterfall nearby. Remembering that he was safe with the Fellowship in Lothlorien, he sighed with a mixture of relief and exasperation at seeing his newly made dwarf friend staring down at him over his auburn beard.

Legolas sheathed his blades and glared at the dwarf. "You did not have to wake me so urgently if there are no orcs about, son of Gloin. I was resting," he muttered, resuming his previous position of resting his back against the tree trunk. Gimli rolled his eyes and grumbled, plopping himself on the lush grass beside his elven friend.

"How could you rest if you were tossing about so much?" the dwarf retorted, squinting at the elf.

Legolas' shoulders tensed and he eyed Gimli carefully. "I was not tossing," he defended. "Mayhap _dwarves_ do so in their restful state."

"Dwarves do not toss!" Gimli growled. "Nobody tosses a _dwarf!"_

The prince was about to reply when he saw Aragorn walk past them and raise a finger to his lips. "I know how much you like to bicker, my friends," the ranger said calmly, "but the hobbits need their sleep." Once the human saw both his friends nod in affirmation, he turned and walked in the direction of the lake nearby, disappearing through the trees.

Gimli cleared his throat, his voice rough but gentle. "Laddie," he began hesitantly. "What did you see in your dreams that made your face turn to fear?" Legolas snapped his gaze to his stout friend as Gimli continued. "I have seen you in battle, but not once did I ever see such upon your face. What is it, elf?"

Legolas regarded his friend for a moment and replayed his dreams of that night over in his mind, his eyes glassy and distant. It was not the first time he had experienced such a vision. The first time was the night he arrived in Rivendell before Elrond had held his council. It was in that moment that he knew he had to do everything he was able to aid Middle-earth in defeating Sauron.

He closed his eyes tightly as he recalled shouting out for Lasneth before an orc arrow pierced through his brother's heart. He saw Lalaith weeping as she ran through a burning forest, dress torn with a scratch across her pale cheek, her hands clutching a bloody wound above her left hip. He saw his father in battle against a dozen orcs within his own palace – the walls cracking down around him, crumbling to dust as the loathsome creatures scurried through the halls, slaughtering any living thing in their path. The cries of innocent elves filled his ears and engulfed his mind. The images flashed rapidly through his vision – first Lasneth, lying face down in the dirt, being trampled by orcs. Next he saw his father receive a blow to the chest and fall to the stone floor beneath his throne, eyes misting over. Just when Legolas thought he could not bear any more, he saw Lalaith kneeling on the ground, wrists bound as an orc raised its blade towards her neck, her scream of anguish ringing through the dark forest…

"Legolas! Laddie!"

The prince was jolted from his thoughts, panting heavily, face pale. He inhaled deeply through his nose and balled his hands into fists in an attempt to cease their trembling. He took a shaky breath and confessed to Gimli what he had dreamt.

"It was full of darkness and destruction, Gimli," the elf whispered, clearly traumatised. Gimli, unsure at first, reached over to pat his forearm in comfort.

"I did not know you had a brother and sister," the dwarf said tersely.

Legolas chuckled weakly. "I do have a brother. He is younger and more risky than I am -"

"You mean irrational," Gimli interrupted.

Legolas smiled slightly. "Whatever you say, master dwarf."

"And the girl, lad?"

"Nay, she is not my sister," Legolas smirked at Gimli's perplexed expression. "She is my mate."

"You're _married?_" Gimli bellowed, his eyes crossing inwards towards his nose. He huffed when the elf nodded his head. "For how long?"

"Longer than you have been alive, my friend," Legolas said, his mood brightening at seeing disbelief cross his friend's features.

Gimli narrowed his eyes. "You jest."

Legolas raised his palms up in the air. "Alright I confess, I have not been bonded longer than you have walked this earth," he paused. "Indeed, it has been almost a decade, or it will be in a few months. Though no doubt we will probably be in Mordor by then."

"Do not tell me you have left behind elflings as well in that forest of yours."

"Nay, I have not."

Gimli noticed his friend's sense of despondency and coughed, squaring his shoulders. "You'll see them again, laddie, including that blasted father of yours."

Legolas' lips quirked upwards and he grinned at his friend. "_Hannon le, elvellon,_" he said quietly, placing his right hand over his heart. "May you endure to see your kin and that we may travel together after this war has ended, this darkness defeated, to explore what beauty is left in this world."

Gimli's gaze softened and he cleared his throat. Instead of choosing to reply, the dwarf extended his hand and gave his elf friend a reassuring pat on the arm once more. The two companions stared at the starlit sky through the _mallorn_ trees towering above them, bequeathing their minds with a semblance of peace.

xxx

Lalaith gasped as she sat up in bed, sweat mopping her brow. She stared at the empty spot on the bed beside her. She could feel Legolas' uncertainty through their bond, as well as his determination. She knew the Fellowship would do anything in their power to prevent the shadow from succeeding. The trance was finally broken when she saw a white ball of fur pounce onto the sheets, meowing at her. Lalaith pulled the cat into her arms and cradled her to her chest. "_Hannon le, mellon nin._" Isil snuggled up into the princess' embrace and purred, offering the elleth what little comfort she could bestow as the clouds veiled the sky over Mirkwood, enveloping the chamber in darkness.


	13. Of Visitors and Pointy Hats

Thanks so much for all the reviews! I am definitely taking note of all your suggestions for future chapters. I have been asked quite a few times now to do a reunion chapter… don't worry that will happen soon, but not just yet ;)

Also, the way Thranduil is sitting upon his throne is supposed to be like how Lee Pace was sitting (more like reclining) in the sneak peek of the next Hobbit movie. (Which by the way, WAS SO AWESOME! OMG LEGOLAS, THRANDUIL AND EVEN TAURIEL WERE SO BADASS!) Ahem anyway :P Bonus points if you catch the reference to the quote Gandalf says to Galadriel in The Hobbit movie ;)

NOTE: This chapter goes out of order again, when they're all still elflings.

* * *

**Of Visitors and Pointy Hats**

The large, grand oaken doors to the Elvenking's hall swung open gradually, the wood groaning as the guards pulled on the handles. Thranduil sat regally upon his throne, his stern demeanour dissipating when he noticed exactly who his visitor was. The first thing the king noticed was the old man's tall, pointy grey hat. The grey robes that draped over the man's body swept all the way down to his feet, obscuring his ragged grey travelling boots. Staff in hand, the visitor strode into the hall, a twinkle in his eye. He smiled and removing his hat from his head, bowed to the king, his grey beard touching the stone floor. The man straightened and slowly approached the throne. "King Thranduil, my friend," he greeted, his voice gentle and wrinkled face pulled into a grin. "It has been too long."

Thranduil, who had his legs crossed over one another, leaning back, hands resting leisurely upon the armrests of this throne, smiled at his guest. He twirled his staff in his hand for a few moments before he stood, making his way down the steps from his throne. He placed his right hand over his heart and extended it outwards in greeting, clasping the man's shoulder. "Mithrandir," he said warmly. "Indeed, much time has passed since you have set foot in my realm. Tell me, did you travel well?"

Mithrandir gave a single nod. "I managed to visit Radagast on the way," he told the king. "The Greenwood forest thrives, _mellon nin._"

Thranduil beamed and inclined his head in gratitude. "_Hannon le,_ my friend." The two males exchanged a few more words between them before the right passage door leading into the hall creaked open. Their gazes turned towards the sound and both smiled as a beautiful elleth with long, flowing blonde hair entered the room, an elfling perched on her hip.

"Ah, Queen Merilwen! Time may have changed me, but not the fair lady of Greenwood," Mithrandir said, bowing his head as he placed a kiss on the queen's hand.

Merilwen laughed softly and curtseyed. "Greetings, my dear wizard." She adjusted the elfling in her arms and grinned mischieviously. "Is that what you told Galadriel the last time you visited Lorien as well?"

Thranduil chuckled, placing an arm around Merilwen's waist. The wizard laughed loudly, eyes shining with mirth. "My fair lady, I'm afraid not even the Lady of Lorien can match your wit!"

Merilwen grinned and whispered: "I'll make sure she does not hear that you said that!"

"Although I most certainly will!" Thranduil winked.

This time, the passage door was flung wide open and the voices of elflings reached their ears. The wizard smiled and knelt to the floor, opening his arms just in time to catch the two elflings that had sprinted across the hall, crying out in delight. "Mithrandir!"

The grey wizard chuckled as he patted the children's backs, ruffling their hair. Both had round, blue eyes that stared up at him in awe, although one had straight golden hair and the other one as dark as midnight, tumbling down in soft waves.

"Prince Legolas," he said to the blonde haired child. "You have grown so mighty since the last time I saw you, I almost did not recognise you!" Legolas beamed up at the wizard.

"And my lovely Lalaith," the wizard said to the dark haired child. "You are as stunning as ever, my lady." Mithrandir met Thranduil's gaze and smirked. "Still joined at the hip with the prince, I see." Lalaith smiled shyly and shuffled her feet, allowing Mithrandir to gently take her hand as he rose.

The wizard turned his eyes to the sleeping baby cradled in Merilwen's arms and lowered his voice. "This must be the new prince. My congratulations to you both. May he be blessed."

The king and queen thanked their friend. "We have decided to call him Lasneth," Merilwen said quietly, smoothing down the elfling's blonde hair.

"A fine name for a royal prince of the Woodland Realm." The wizard looked down when he felt a light tug on the sleeve of his cloak. Legolas peered up curiously at him.

"Mithrandir, can I please wear your hat?"

The wizard laughed at the young prince's serious tone and lifted his pointy hat from his head, placing it gently upon the elfling's head. Legolas giggled when the broad hat fell down to rest on his shoulders. "Mithrandir, how do you see? It is so dark in here!"

Lalaith giggled and reached over to lift the brim of the hat, grinning when she saw the prince's blue eyes emerge. Legolas adjusted the hat to sit crookedly on his head, half his face concealed.

The two royals and the wizard looked fondly upon the two young elves as they began to chase each other around the hall, taking turns on wearing the oversized, pointy garment. The guards exchanged looks of amusement, but the two elflings did not notice, absorbed in the their joy. The wizard sent a silent prayer, hoping that the young elves did not have to grow up too fast and that time would be kind to Greenwood, allowing the elves and the trees to flourish in peace.


	14. Of Memories and Realms

No, this is not the reunion chapter just yet ;) I promise you guys won't have to wait much longer! I made sure this was a nice, long chapter though :)

Note: This is set before Lasneth was injured (which occurred in Chapter 10/11).

* * *

**Of Memories and Realms**

The war had ended.

The elves had waited many centuries for evil to be completely defeated. After Thranduil had heard tidings that the Fellowship had succeeded in their quest, the Woodland elves thought they were finally at peace. However, Sauron's armies had made two last, desperate attacks on both Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Countless trees had been burnt, homes destroyed, lives lost. The destruction had almost been too great a burden to bear, especially for the Woodland elves. Yet Thranduil had led them on once more. But the elves were now weary from the troubles of the world, with many choosing to sail in order to recover from the physical and emotional scars they had obtained during their time in Middle-earth.

Thranduil stood upon the balcony outside his study, hands resting on the railing as his gaze swept over the forest. The Elvenking was most conflicted – he felt pride at ridding the foul creatures from his realm, he felt grief at the trees and animals devastated, he felt pity and despair at seeing elves weep and fade due to loved ones they had lost in battle, and he felt concern for the future of the kingdom. Would anyone even wish to live in it anymore? Had the time of the elves at last come to a bittersweet end, just when the darkness had finally been vanquished? The thoughts swirled through the king's head. Thranduil closed his eyes, attempting to clear his mind. Instead, vicious memories of the recent forest battle consumed him.

_Thranduil watched in horror as the orcs burned their way through the forest, breaking through the palace defences, slaughtering any elf in their path. The Elvenking reached over his shoulder, cursing when his hand found air instead of an arrow. Slinging his bow across his back, he unsheathed his sword and slashes his way through the enemies surrounding him. He turned his head sharply when he heard Lasneth call out desperately for him. Fearing the worst, he followed his son's voice and rushed to his aid. Relief flooded through his veins at seeing the prince whole. Lasneth fought back-to-back with his father._

"_Adar," he called above the cacophony. "Yrch! They're going in the direction of the spiral dungeons!"_

_All colour drained from Thranduil's face. The spiral dungeons were deep in the cave-like abode, where a spiral staircase led down to an area where the ellyth and elflings were detained during battle. The one significant flaw was that the dungeons were not as deep as the ones where the Elvenking held his prisoners. Never in his thousands of years did Thranduil think that one day the enemy would infiltrate the city. The king's breath hitched when he realised Lalaith would be the first to stand guard behind the door leading to the spiral dungeons. The princess was fiercely protective of their people, a trait shared by Legolas, his family as well as the guard. _

_Grabbing Lasneth's arm, the king and prince sliced down every orc in their path as they made their way further into the palace. Lasneth cried out in despair when he saw that the door leading down the corridor towards the dungeons had been broken into. The prince burst into a sprint, his father at his heels._

_Thranduil prayed that Lalaith had informed the other ellyth of the escape route via the river leading to Lake Town. He hoped against hope that Lalaith had decided to follow them, rather than staying behind to defend the city. The prince and king rushed down the hall, a few guards behind them. Thranduil's heart was racing; perspiration matted his skin and hair, making his clothing beneath his armour cling to his body. _

_Fortunately, the orcs had not discerned the importance of the dungeons, so the door leading to the spiral staircase had not been taken heed of. But they found themselves surrounded by a small group of orcs. Thranduil, Lasneth and their guards quickly disposed of the evil creatures. A menacing laugh followed by an abrupt shout made them halt. Thranduil felt a mixture of fear and fury envelope his being when he saw an orc emerge from round the corner, his blade held to Lalaith's neck. The princess' cheeks, hands and dress were streaked with dirt and blood. Her breathing was loud and shallow, her eyes betraying her terror._

"_Drop your swords, or I'll slit her throat!" the orc growled, grinning wickedly._

_Lasneth shifted nervously, confusion and disbelief marring his features. Thranduil gave a brief nod and gradually lowered his sword, signalling for his guards to do the same. Lasneth dropped his long knives, the metal clattering to the stone floor. He reached his left hand discreetly behind his thigh, feeling the dagger hidden beneath his armour. His fingers gripped the handle and he waited._

_Lalaith read the questions in Thranduil and Lasneth's eyes. Why did she leave the safety of the spiral dungeons? She focused the energy of her thoughts towards Lasneth and spoke to him in his mind. 'Elarinya and I heard the orcs come so close to discovering us. I told the others to flee while we distracted the enemy. It was the only option we had or else there would have been a massacre.'_

_Lasneth blinked and stared at his sister-in-law. 'Where is your friend, Elarinya?'_

'_She is dead.' Lalaith tearfully glanced to her left. Lasneth followed her line of sight and noticed the fair maiden Elarinya, lying beneath some debris. Sorrow filled his heart and he turned to the orc clutching at the princess' neck, his blood boiling._

"_Name your price and let her go," Thranduil said, his voice strong. The orc cackled and pressed the blade closer to the elleth's neck._

"_You surrender, then I let her go," the creature laughed, its hideous features crumpling up in amusement. He wrapped his hand around Lalaith's neck and began to constrict her airways. Lalaith gasped for air, her panic increasing with each breath._

"_RELEASE HER THIS INSTANT!" Thranduil bellowed. For a split moment, the orc cowered in intimidation. _

"_Alright then," it hissed. "Though I didn't say I'll let her go – alive!"_

_Thranduil snapped his gaze to his son. Lasneth understood the order. He grabbed the dagger hidden on him and threw it towards the orc. Before the creature could even blink, the blade had embedded deep into his forehead. Its grip on Lalaith loosened and it fell backwards to the ground. Thranduil dived to pick up his sword and ran towards Lalaith, shielding her with his left arm as he steered their way through another group of orcs that had entered the hall. _

_Lasneth stood between his family and the orcs surrounding them, covering for his father to allow him a chance to lead the princess out of danger. He looked over his shoulder to see if they had managed to escape the hall. The second of distraction proved to be detrimental._

"_LASNETH!" Lalaith cried out when she saw the prince receive a blow to his stomach, the gash seeping with blood. Thranduil froze. His first instinct screamed at him to rush towards his son's side. He knew through their bond that his child was alive, his heartbeats were strong. The captain of the guard and Lalaith's uncle, Girithron, immediately ordered his fellow soldiers to surround the younger prince and Thranduil grasped Lalaith's hand, bolting towards the nearest exit. The elleth sobbed as they made their way through the palace to the emergency healing house. Once there, the king passed her hand to a healer and instructed for them to take their supplies and run. Thranduil placed his hands on either side of Lalaith's cheeks and kissed her forehead. "Lasneth is alive, my child. I will make sure he stays that way. Go!"_

"_Come back to us, Adar, please!" Lalaith wept. Thranduil squeezed her hand and with a final look back, he left._

xxx

"You have been lost in your thoughts for so long, you did not even noticed my presence."

Thranduil whirled around to come face-to-face with his cousin. Lord Celeborn smiled warmly at the Elvenking, sobering when he noticed the troubled look upon his face.

"Forgive me, cousin. I'm afraid my mind was wandering the road of memory."

Celeborn stepped towards the king. Sensing that Thranduil did not wish to discuss the topic, he attempted to divert the conversation. "Galadriel sends her kindest regards."

Thranduil snorted. "I believe the last time I met your Noldor wife, we did not exchange such kind words."

Celeborn smirked. "The Fellowship passed through Lorien during their travels. We met with the crown prince. I believe the last time we saw him he barely reached my knee. My lady was most impressed with him. In fact, I'm sure she liked him more than you. And I agree, he is not nearly as stubborn or proud as his father."

Thranduil released a bark of laughter, his features morphing into utter shock at hearing Celeborn's next words. "Your son has befriended a dwarf."

Thranduil stood, mouth agape. He snapped it shut and clenched his jaw. "My. Son. And. A. Dwarf?"

Celeborn grinned. "Indeed he has, and quite close too. He has called him _elvellon._"

Thranduil was seething. "Oh I will _definitely_ have a few words with Legolas when he returns." The king glared openly at his cousin. "And you _allowed_ him to do this?"

Celeborn shrugged. "They were both part of the Fellowship. They had to become united."

Thranduil grumbled to himself and listened as Celeborn informed him of the devastation that had also affected Lothlorien. "Galadriel will be sailing soon," Celeborn said sadly. Thranduil softened slightly; he knew the pain of being separated from a mate. "The elves of Lorien will be following her, although those who do wish to remain in Middle-earth will either seek refuge here or in Imladris, for Lothlorien will pass into distant memory."

Thranduil scrutinised his cousin, knowing that he had not yet spoken of the matter that weighed the most upon his mind. "I would gladly welcome refugees. But tell me, cousin, what is the purpose of this conversation?"

Celeborn smiled wryly. "Always impatient to get to the point," he muttered. "Since I will not be sailing just yet, I would also wish to… relocate."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "Here?"

Celeborn nodded in affirmation. "I would wish to rule the small portion of Lorien elves that decide to take up residence in Mirkwood."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and flinched. He had never become accustomed to the name given by others to his realm – Mirkwood. He had always despised whenever the word reached his ears.

"The Woodland realm may have been burnt," Celeborn continued, "but the shadow has been conquered. Once the trees have healed, no longer shall the woods be murky."

Thranduil snapped his head up. "What do you propose?"

"I believe it is time for a change of name, do you not?"

Thranduil grinned. "I think it is long overdue."

Thranduil and Celeborn seated themselves on either side of the king's desk and continued to speak. The Lorien lord told his cousin about the brave, selfless deeds of the Fellowship, including what he had heard of Legolas. Thranduil's heart swelled with pride and he smiled widely, interrupting Celeborn's speech.

"Eryn Lasgalen."

Celeborn paused. "Wood of the Greenleaves?"

"And you may have the south of the forest," Thranduil replied.

"East Lorien it shall be."

The two elven lords exchanged smiles before clasping each other's forearms. Thranduil chuckled and reached over to the decanter of Dorwinion on his desk, pouring two glasses. He handed a glass to Celeborn and the two leaders raised their hands, clinking their glasses together.

"To the peaceful future of Eryn Lasgalen and East Lorien, until the breaking of the world," Thranduil toasted.

Celeborn simply inclined his head and smiled. "And a well deserved peace it shall be."

* * *

_Translations:  
__Yrch_ = orcs.  
_Ellyth_ = plural for elleth (she-elf).  
_Elvellon_ = elf-friend.


	15. Of Tales and Vows

I know you guys have insisted on a reunion chapter… so… you'll have to wait until the next one ;) I'm sorry, but I just had to write about this first! I promise the next thing I post will be the much-requested reunion! Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

NOTE: This goes out of chronological order again, when Legolas is still a baby/child, Lasneth is not born yet.

Also, Legolas is said to be approx. 3000 years old during the time of the Fellowship. Since the Last Alliance against Sauron is said to have taken place just over 3000 years before, I'm taking a rough estimate and making it so that Oropher would still be alive when Legolas was born, only to be slain shortly after in the above battle. Hope that helps make the chapter a bit less confusing!

* * *

**Of Tales and Vows**

"Ada?"

The elfling pulled on his father's robe and lifted his arms up. King Thranduil smiled down at his son, pulling him up into his lap. The Elvenking had been reading in the library and had lost track of time as he indulged in his favourite pastime. Thranduil sighed and closed the book in his hands, placing it on the table beside him when the child began to wriggle in his arms. "Should you not be in bed, _penneth?_"

Legolas did not reply, instead choosing to snuggle his face into the king's shoulder. Thranduil reached his right hand up to stroke the child's soft golden hair. He noticed Legolas tilt his face to stare at the book on the table. "Would you like to hear a story, _ion nin?_"

The young prince nodded eagerly. "You must promise to go straight to bed afterwards," Thranduil said sternly.

Legolas bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before giving a single nod of his head. Thranduil wrapped his arms around the elfling, rummaging through his thoughts, trying to come up with a tale to tell the young prince. A smile crept to his lips as he tightened his hold on his son. "Do you remember your grandfather?"

A flash of memory passed through the elfling's mind. He vaguely recalled a proud yet kind, smiling face as a baby Legolas was tossed up into the air.

"Yes Ada, I remember _Daeradar._"

Thranduil patted the child's head before asking: "Would you like to hear about your Grandfather Oropher?"

Legolas beamed and nodded once more.

"Your grandfather was a very tall elf," Thranduil began.

"Taller than you, Ada?"

Thranduil grinned. "Yes, even taller than me."

Legolas' mouth formed a small "o" in awe. "He must have been very, very strong then, Ada!"

Thranduil smiled sadly, memories of the Last Alliance flashing through his mind. "Indeed he was, my son." He cleared his throat. "Your grandfather was one of the strongest rulers to walk Middle-earth. Most people perceived him to be proud, cold, strict and shrewd. He was all of these things, but he was also caring and very protective. He once saved me from drowning in a river when I was but an elfling."

Legolas gasped and wound his little arms around his father's neck. Thranduil rubbed his back and continued. "Your grandfather taught me many things, including how to fight. He was kind but stern, always pushing me to my limits. It was he who pushed me to wed your mother and it was only days after that he began rattling on about future heirs! Anyway, it was two years later when you were brought into this world." Thranduil paused and his eyes misted over, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To this day I have never seen a happier elf."

Legolas pulled away when his father stopped speaking and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Ada, did you forget the rest of the story? That is not fair, you have only just begun!"

Thranduil rubbed a hand over his eyelids and chuckled. "Nay, little one, I most definitely did not forget." Legolas studied his father and deciding he was telling the truth, crawled back into the king's arms, urging him to resume.

Thranduil exhaled, fiddling with the end of Legolas' pale green tunic, his gaze fixed upon the intricate embroidery along the edges of the silky garment. "I remember your grandfather used to puff out his chest even more so when carrying you in his arms around the palace, showing you off to every elf who passed by. The other elves found it most amusing, though your mother and grandmother found it to be quite endearing. He would walk straight out of a council meeting and throw you up in the air until you tired of laughter. Once, he walked around the entire palace with you sitting on his shoulders asking if anyone had seen Little Legolas, as he liked to call you. At feasts, you would grab and chew the ends of his hair. Your _daeradar_ would grumble about baby slobber for a few minutes before he would remove his crown and place it around your head. If anyone approached him and addressed him as 'my king,' he would instead point to you and inform whoever it was that they were speaking to the wrong elf, for the crown of the king sat on an elfling's head and not his own…"

Thranduil noticed Legolas yawn and his voice dropped an octave. "Sometimes, when I had to leave for patrol when I was prince, your _daeradar_ used to rock you to sleep. There were also a few occasions when I was injured from my journeys, unable to dance at feasts. Your grandfather would instead dance with your mother until she complained her feet pained. On your grandmother's birthday, he would refuse to attend court, choosing to spend the entire day with her. On your first begetting day, he bought you a set of toy bows and arrows, as well as a pony."

"A real pony?" Legolas mumbled sleepily.

"Yes _ion nin,_ it was real," Thranduil replied, running his fingers gently through the child's hair.

"What about my second begetting day, Ada?"

Thranduil's eyes flew shut and he pressed his eyelids tightly together. Images of the devastating battle in Mordor flew through his vision. He remembered the expressions of despair upon the faces of the elves of Greenwood the Great when just days before Legolas' second birthday, Oropher had rode out of the city gates, his son and army following. He remembered the desperation with which the Greenwood elves fought that fateful day at the gates of Mordor. He remembered the terror that clutched his heart as Sauron emerged from his army of orcs, destroying everything in his path. He remembered the miscommunicated signal for Oropher and his army to attack, including the cry of utter anguish as their army was massacred, the two royals realising too late that they had walked right into a trap. He remembered Oropher pushing Thranduil to the side as a spear narrowly missed the prince's ribs. He remembered screaming for his father when he saw Oropher slaughtered before his own eyes, the king staring in defeat at his only son as he collapsed to the ground; dirt, blood and stone marring his blank, pale face. Thranduil remembered the chaos surrounding him as he tried to fight his way towards the fallen king. Thranduil remembered the hopelessness and devastation that had engulfed his being when he returned as the new King of Greenwood, leading merely a handful of elves behind him. Thranduil shook his head as he remembered his wife, Merilwen, her eyes red with tears as she informed him that his mother had faded only days before his return. Thranduil remembered gripping Legolas in his arms as he wept for his family and his kingdom. Thranduil remembered all to well the many months he had mourned for all the lives lost against the shadow, vowing that he would not let the darkness touch his family ever again.

Legolas had roused himself when he noticed his father had become eerily silent. The elfling saw his father's hand clenched tightly into a fist, turning the knuckles white. Legolas tenderly pried the hand open with his tiny fingers and lifted his wide, blue eyes up to the Elvenking. Not understanding why his father appeared so miserably lost in his thoughts, he sat patiently, his hand resting in his father's, wondering what on earth it was that had made his Ada so sad. After all, it was just a bedtime story, was it not? Little Legolas did not know that years later, Thranduil would finally tell his son the complete tale, including the bitter truth of what exactly had happened to his grandfather Oropher. The young prince squeezed his father's hand and silently pledged that he would take revenge upon whatever or whoever had made his Ada meloncholy that night. Little did he know that the small decision would one day spur him to join a crucial quest to the very land that had brought his grandfather to his end.

xxx

Centuries later, Legolas stood side-by-side with Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf and two hobbits, the black gates of Mordor looming over them. He glared up at the tower of Sauron, praying that the diversion would give Frodo and Sam the chance they needed to defeat evil once and for all. Legolas recalled the night when he was but a child and his father had told him stories of Oropher, only to pause in sorrow. He remembered his father later telling him that his _daeradar_ had been slain at the very gates of the wretched land. Legolas looked sharply to the ground at his feet, wondering if he stood at the same spot where his grandfather had brutally perished. The prince's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he seethed. Determination fired through his veins, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. Sauron would pay for what he had done, and Legolas would personally ensure that the darkness would be vanquished. Too many lives – mortal and immortal - had been sacrificed already, too many families had broken apart. Memories of his own family ran through his mind and Legolas focused his gaze upon the flaming eye above. Today, he vowed, it would come finally come to an end.

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_Translations:  
Penneth = young one  
Ion nin = my son  
Daeradar = grandfather_


	16. Of Reunions and Elf-friends

I am incredibly sorry for such a long delay! The past semester has been so hectic… filled with weddings, exams, and the excitement of being able to meet Aidan, Adam and Jed at a con here in my country (lovely people, by the way), but now I am finally on holidays!

Thank you all for your patience and support so far. No this story is not completed yet, though it will be very soon as I'm itching to move on to some Hobbit-centric stories that will mainly involve Thorin, Kili, Fili, Bilbo and probably Ori too (because let's just face it, he's too adorable). Anyway, I hope you like the chapter!

P.S. How awesome is Lee Pace as Thranduil? The trailer for DoS was so enticing – cannot wait for December!

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**Of Reunions and Elf-friends**

"Home."

It was a simple word, but carried enough impact to lift the weight of what seemed like a thousand lifetimes off from the elf's shoulders. The prince breathed in the scent of the woodland trees surrounding him, closing his eyes as he allowed the serenity of nature calm his mind. His eyes snapped open and jaw clenched slightly at the sense of restlessness enveloped his being. A bittersweet chuckle left his lips as he recalled Galadriel's warning. No, his heart no longer found rest in what he used to be his beloved forest. A gentle pat on the prince's shoulder caused him to peer down at his stout dwarven companion.

Gimli huffed and shifted uneasily in the saddle behind his elven friend, refusing to make eye contact. The dwarf could see his friend was troubled and was not used to dealing with emotions so freely, deeming himself too "macho" (a remark Aragorn would use against him teasingly many times in the future). Gimli grumbled to himself before raising a bushy red eyebrow at his friend. "Shouldn't we keep moving, lad?" he managed to grunt out, glancing nervously at the tall canopy of trees looming above them, eyes darting sideways. Legolas grinned at seeing how uncomfortable his friend was and nudged Arod into a trot.

"Do not worry, Gimli," he said, surveying the forest around them. The woods were a lot greener and less murky now that the darkness had finally been driven out from his father's kingdom. "Spiders no longer roam these woods." Legolas noticed Gimli visibly relax at the news. The prince had received word of the severe extent of Mirkwood's troubles after the Ring had been destroyed, including the battle that had almost taken his brother's life. Upon entering the woodland realm, the burnt trees and barren land made it impossible not to notice the damage that had been inflicted by the shadow. Legolas blinked away the dark thoughts that began to worm their way into his mind and spurred his horse into a gallop, anxious to see his family whole once again.

It did not take long for them to reach the bridge that led towards the underground palace. Legolas dismounted and roughly pulled down Gimli after him, smirking at the stream of dwarvish curses his friend muttered as his heavy boots landed awkwardly on the ground. Before the prince could take another step forward, he heard a familiar rustling in the leaves above and as he expected, a moment later he found himself surrounded by an elven guard, arrows pointed at both him and a growling Gimli.

"State your business!" A sharp elven voice called and Legolas instantly snapped his eyes to the leader of the group. The two elves' gazes met and with a laugh of disbelief the leader lowered his bow and lunged towards the prince. Legolas laughed heartily as he clasped his younger brother's shoulder and pulled him into an embrace.

"Still blind as ever, I see," Legolas chuckled. Lasneth's eyes narrowed before his face split into a grin once more, punching his older brother in the arm. The guard had also lowered their weapons but continued to stare cautiously at Gimli. Lasneth noticed the group's wariness and peered over his brother's shoulder, his jaw dropping in shock.

"Legolas, what is _that?_"

Legolas turned and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, partly to placate him and partly to restrain him from saying anything to the elves surrounding them. Gimli glared up at his friend and huffed in annoyance.

"He is not a _what,_ you log," Legolas sighed. "This is my friend - yes a dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin. I have named him _elvellon._"

The older prince's voice ended with a note of authority, a silent demand that his decision could not be challenged by anyone else. The elven soldiers inclined their head in greeting to Legolas and hesitated for a moment before doing the same to Gimli. Legolas gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze. "He has fought bravely along side me in many battles and was also a part of the Fellowship."

"Saved your hide one too many times too, elf," Gimli piped up, grinning up at his friend. Lasneth's brow furrowed, utterly perplexed at the fact that his brother, who absolutely despised dwarves, had decided to befriend one – and a son of Gloin! Lasneth remembered all too well, with a mixture of chagrin and amusement, the barrel incident that had occurred some decades before. His father had been livid. A mischievous smile crept onto his face. Oh he couldn't _wait_ until his father set eyes on his eldest son's dwarf companion.

Patting Arod gently on the nose, Lasneth took the reins in his hand and began to lead the way across the bridge, the breeze forming ripples in the water of the enchanted stream beneath them. Legolas smirked at seeing Gimli's eyes light up in wonder at the stream of butterflies that fluttered through the leaves above them, the sun peeking through the gaps in the foliage, casting a warm glow over the forest floor.

The gates leading to the heart of the kingdom swung open and Lasneth continued to lead the group towards the cavernous palace, only to stop abruptly in his tracks. Legolas glanced up, confused at the sudden motion when he noticed the imposing, stern figure standing at the door of the palace. Even from afar Gimli could easily determine that the elf was most definitely the King of Mirkwood. Both father and son shared the same blue eyes and blonde hair (though the king's was longer, and he was at least a head taller in height). A crown of woodland leaves and berries adorned his hair and his voluminous robes swept to the floor. Yet when Gimli looked upon his face he was surprised to see that it was not the sour expression he was so accustomed to hearing his father Gloin inform him of. Instead, the king's eyes were kind and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

Legolas could not contain the cry of joy that left his throat at seeing his father. In three long strides, both elves were standing in front of one another. Legolas hesitated briefly before bending his head in a bow. Thranduil grasped his arms and pulled him upright. Tears of happiness and pride shone in the king's eyes and he wound his arms around his son's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. Legolas, suddenly feeling quite young again, pressed his face further into his father's robes and tightened his embrace as well.

"My little Leaf," Thranduil whispered, holding his son for a bit longer before stretching out his arms, causing Legolas to take a step backwards. The king and prince shared a grin. "No injuries," Thranduil announced, eyes narrowing slightly. "None that I can see at the moment." Thranduil glanced over his son's shoulder and a stony expression fixed on to his face at seeing Gimli standing awkwardly beside Lasneth, his hand resting upon the axe in his belt.

Legolas and Lasneth shifted uneasily as Gimli and Thranduil glared at each other.

"Ada," Legolas began, resting a hand on his father's forearm. "This -"

"Is a dwarf, of that I am _quite_ aware," Thranduil said coldly. He peered down at Gimli from above his nose. "A son of Gloin, nonetheless. The resemblance is uncanny."

"The same can be said for yourself and your son," Gimli replied, daring to take a few steps forward, biting down on his tongue to refrain from referring to the incident that had occurred between his father and the king sixty years prior.

Seeing that the staring competition was not going to end anytime soon, Legolas sighed and looked his father in the eye. "Gimli fought bravely in the Fellowship and I have named him _elvellon._ But more importantly, Adar, he is my friend. There are few others who I would have at my side."

Thranduil's gaze snapped to his elder son with a hint of surprise. The king inclined his head and his lips curled into a small smile. "Then I welcome you, master dwarf, to the halls of Eryn Lasgalen."

Gimli blinked and bowed his head in return. "You have my gratitude, my lord."

"Oh and do not fret, son of Gloin. You shall be provided with lodgings more agreeable than that given to your father. I hope they are to your satisfaction. They should be – after all, only the highest standard of care is provided to the friends of my sons." Thranduil smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he turned on his heel and strode back towards the palace. Legolas looked nervously at Gimli as the dwarf stood silent for a moment before erupting into deep laughter, patting Legolas on the arm reassuringly as he followed the elves inside. Yes, he could see from whom his friend got his playful streak.

"Wood of the Greenleaves?" Legolas asked, nudging his father with his elbow as they entered the grand halls. Thranduil merely smiled and increased his pace, only to stumble as a white ball of fur rounded the corner and entangled its tail around the king's ankles.

"Isil!" Thranduil scowled down at the wide-eyed creature, only to receive a soft meow in response. However, his son did not even notice the fluffy cat at the king's feet, instead his gaze was fixed on the elleth standing in the middle of the corridor. Gimli's jaw slackened, the elf was stunning – not as fair as the Lady of Lothlorien, but there was no doubt that she was one of the fairest elves he had ever seen. Her dark hair flowed in waves down to her hips and the embellishment on her soft lilac gown glinted in in the candlelight.

"'Las?" she whispered before rushing forward into the prince's arms. Legolas buried his nose into her hair and squeezed his eyes shut, only pulling back slightly to smooth his hands over her hair and wipe away the tears that had trailed down her cheeks, whilst Thranduil beamed at the joy that filled their eyes.

With his left arm still wrapped around the elleth's waist, Legolas finally turned to face his friend. "Gimli," he said with a grin, "_this_ is Lalaith."

Gimli approached the princess as she did a small curtsey in greeting, smiling warmly at him. He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles. "It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my lady," Gimli said smoothly, grinning impishly up at his friend. "Aye, the lad told me of your beauty, but I am afraid his words do not do you justice!"

Legolas frowned as Lalaith and Gimli laughed. "So that's how you got on the Lady Galadriel's good side," the prince mumbled to himself, earning a light slap on his wrist from his wife.

Gimli, despite his reservations about visiting his friend's home, could not quench the happiness that filled his heart at seeing the delight each time Legolas was reunited with a family member or a friend. The war had been cruel to them all. He knew of the elf's sea-longing and had promised to not breathe a word of it until Legolas himself decided the time was right. Gimli had grudgingly agreed, silently concerned for the welfare of his friend. But seeing Legolas happier than he had been in months in the presence of his family had put the dwarf's mind at ease, even if it was just for a short while. His own thoughts travelled to his kin and his father, Gloin. Much as he loathed to show it, Gimli was a relatively soft-hearted dwarf and sorely missed his parents and cousins. If only his father was here to see him standing shoulder-to-shoulder with King Thranduil as they looked fondly upon royal heirs. Gimli chuckled. Yes, if only his father were here indeed.


End file.
